Hearts Desire
by Phoenix13
Summary: 2009 Movieverse - Optimus Prime and Elita One attempt to cheer up Ironhide. WARNING: Threesome within! Pure smut alert! Sticky! Ch.6 - Optimus, Ironhide and Elita continue their threesome. Ironhide brings toys. Optimus experiments.
1. Chapter 1

**Hearts Desire**

Authors Note: I've had the idea of using 2009 Movieverse Optimus Prime, Ironhide and Elita One in a threesome tormenting my poor brain with fabulous ideas for the past week. It's not easy to serve customers at work all day with THIS in my head! I really should be finishing off my other fics and doing a special fic for _**Aozoran**_ (a brilliant new writer I've recently made acquaintances with, and a fellow Aussie to boot!) but I can't help myself.

Please be warned, this is a very graphic 'sticky' fanfic. My imagination is on overdrive and it ain't going to back down any time soon! HUGE warnings for this one! Sticky, threesome, and every sort of pr0n my little heart desires is going to be in this. Hardcore all the way. Please stay WELL AWAY if you don't agree with this kind of stuff. Thanks!

**Chapter One**

Ironhide wasn't the most civil of mechs. Sure, he had a good spark. Massive cannons that some Decepticons swore were sentient. An intimidating presence. A fearsome reputation. A grim scowl on his faceplates. Even his paint job – sheer black – wasn't meant for anything else other than making him blend in with his surroundings until his frightening cannons flared to life and disposed of his enemy in a full frontal attack of plasma fire as bright as the sun.

...but Ironhide's spark was full of kindness for his fellow Autobots. Gruff and hard-sparked he may be, and possessed of a primal sense of humor that scared even the Corvette Twins, but when he saw or heard about another Autobot having a hard time or needing a hand, he was there. Always. Sometimes his support appeared as his hovering silent presence at the shoulder of another 'bot in need, but he always had something to offer and say 'I'm here'.

Which is what made Elita One's spark feel heavy and sad at the morose and listless expression upon the face of the older warrior mech currently sitting on his aft with his back to the wall in the Operations hangar of NEST, waiting for further orders from his Commander, Optimus Prime. The black mech had his head turned to stare out the open hangar doors at the persistent rain currently sweeping the island of Diego Garcia for the fourth straight day running. His only vague interest in the current orders being bantered around was 'Which Decepticon do you want me to offline next?', and even that interest was lack-lustre.

Ever since Elita One had landed and reunited with the lost Autobot army on Earth, she had gotten an uneasy feeling around her old friend. She was worried about him. And now, standing a few steps behind the tall powerful form of her bonded sparkmate – Optimus Prime – who was in deep discussion with the NEST team, she had the feeling that on some level Ironhide had temporarily given up hope of seeing his own sparkmate, Chromia, any time soon and it was weighing terribly on his spark. She was desperately sorry that she did not have better news to give him when she had landed. She honestly had no idea of her best femme friend's whereabouts. No one did.

When the Femme Commander and Autobot Commander retired late in the night for some recharge (the upper human commanders of NEST – of which Will Lennox was one – had scrambled to convert a small sized hangar on the far edge of the base over to living quarters for the giant mech and his newly arrived 'wife', giving them complete privacy away from the others when they needed it) Elita brought up the subject of what she saw as Ironhide's depression. And what they could do about it. Optimus wasn't too hard to sway to her proposal. If there was any mech the normally private Leader would be willing to share his berth and bondmate with, it would be Ironhide.

Cybertronians were not prude's when it came to intimacy. They had no hang-ups related to touching one another, or what activities they engaged in for pleasure. It didn't take the rose painted Femme Commander long to convince her over-sized mate of what was really necessary to convince Ironhide that life was worth living, and enjoying, in the absence of his beloved sparkmate. Eons ago, Chromia had spoken to Elita about what steps she was welcome to use if Ironhide ever got himself into such a depressive state, and Elita had no qualms about using her friendly orders to help out in a very private, and spark-nurturing way...

_**A few days later, just before midnight...**_

Elita One twitched at the feeling of several hands ghosting over her rose tinted outer armor. Rubbing her shoulders, stroking her arms, finding seams in her armor and teasing them. Being deep in recharge, she wasn't coherent enough to understand that the touches were coming from more than one 'pair' of hands. If she had been, her female vocal unit would have been fritzing. She was completely unaware that her legendary sparkmate Optimus Prime wasn't the only mech sharing the enormous berth with her...

"Touch her lower back at the same time as you rest a hand on her crotchplate, she'll start thrusting at you," Prime's voice rumbled sensuously.

"Really?"

The unmistakable baritone of Prime's voice lightened, "Try it."

Elita's CPU processed the softly spoken words but her logic centre just didn't apply them to herself. She didn't even connect the dots when a thick pair of male hands NOT belonging to her mate did the aforementioned actions, settling softly on her body, and her hips did begin to slowly jerk in response. More familiar hands rested on her shoulders, the fingers massaging at the seams of her protoform.

Two low-pitched male voices chuckled at the eager motions of her hips.

"Told you," Optimus said with a touch of mech smugness. There wasn't anything he didn't know about how to bring _his_ femme pleasure. Every little whim and foible of Elita's was tucked away as precious information in a well-fortified part of his CPU.

"Ugh..." Elita curled up with her chin touching her chest and shivered delightedly in reaction to the hands roaming her body. She rolled over onto her other side and collided in a jumble of limbs with a hard male chest. Her head jerked up, optics flashing on, "Wha...?"

"Easy..." Optimus crooned, disentangling his arm that she'd trapped underneath her and extending it to lie on the berth above her head while the hand of his other arm rested on the hollow of her waist above her hip, "we were just playing while we waited for you to wake up."

Elita's optics flickered between staring at his incredibly handsome faceplates to locking onto the expanse of hot flame-decorated male chestplates in front of her nose sensors. The lights of the berth room she and Optimus occupied were on at a low level. Why was that? Dropping her gaze down she noticed that Optimus had his crotch plates open and retracted, revealing his sleeping as-yet-unextended mech spike just poking its head lazily out of its hollow space. Her peripheral gaze picked up on something else too. A big _dark_ shape behind her back.

"Ironhide?!" Elita propped her hands against her mate and craned her head over her shoulder to meet the sultry optics of Prime's Weapons Specialist.

"Yeah. Who else would Prime invite in here, hmm? Ratchet, perhaps?" Ironhide playfully dragged one finger down her back armor until his hand cupped her small aft, flashing a hard grin at her.

Elita was quick on the uptake. "Only if Optimus wanted to see a gynaecological exam performed up close." She relaxed and smiled faintly at him, trying to shake off the last vestiges of her recharge state.

"You want Ratch' here too? Fiesty femme ya got here, Optimus. I'll go get him for you," Ironhide said with a purr, beginning to get up of the berth.

Elita snagged a hand onto his armor and yanked him back down onto the berth, refusing to comment on the Ratchet taunt, "You accepted Prime's offer? Our offer?"

Ironhide's optics darkened. He made his reply by leaning in close over her body, taking her jaw gently in one hand and capturing her mouthplates with his own in an expression of hot desire. There was nothing clinical or detached about the expression he put into it. Elita shuddered at the way her systems were reacting just to his _kiss_. Damn, he was _good_.

Watching their entwined heads, Optimus lifted an optic ridge and sighed, shifting his long body on the padded berth. Ironhide was clearly going to make this into some sort of game over who could make Elita overload the hardest – and the most often. His optics narrowed. _Bring it on, 'Hide, I know her better than you do! No one upstages the Femme Magnet in his own territory! _He actively groaned when Ironhide's groin armor slid back to reveal his semi-hard spike beginning to extend from his groin. Well, if Ironhide had her back half, he'd have her front half, thank you very much.

With practised ease, Optimus slid his splayed out hand down Elita's taut abdomen to rest on her closed crotchplate, putting enough pressure on it with his palm to get her attention. He smiled with satisfaction when she jerked and interrupted Ironhide's sensual kiss with a muffled 'ommph'.

Ironhide lifted his head to focus his darkened optics on Prime's innocent expression of 'What did I do?'. "Humph. You need to kiss this femme more often, she's acting like she's half-starved."

In response to the friendly taunt, Optimus leant back on his side to expose the inner regions of his crotch – and allowed his most prized asset to extend fully from its hidden opening. He knew he was more than well-endowed. He wasn't totally hard yet – he was purposely holding himself back – but he wanted to make an impression that Ironhide couldn't match.

"Hope you know what to do with that other than hang it out loose, youngling, because I'm not giving lessons," Ironhide drawled.

Elita giggled, spluttering into her hands. "Ironhide, don't be mean."

Optimus wasn't too fazed. He cocked his head, "I'll just about allow you to do anything you want here for referring to me as 'young', 'Hide."

"We'll see..." Ironhide responded, giving Prime a calculating look. "Having not been on a berth with both of you before, I'm not sure how far you're willing to go."

At that comment, Elita gently placed her hand on his cheekplate, "As far as we need to, far enough to bring some peace and satisfaction to your ailing spark. I know what Chromia told me to do with you, and so does Optimus." She glanced back at her mate, seeing his small nod of affirmation. Elita continued, "We're here tonight to give you everything you need or desire, except for an actual spark merge." The femme caught his gaze with her own. "Do you agree?"

Ironhide cupped her head and leaned in to give her another kiss. Optimus rolled his optics... but he lifted both of his optic ridges in surprise at Elita's next move.

::_Optimus, get him on his back, please_:: Elita communicated soundlessly to her watching mate when her hands on the black mechs chest failed to move him.

Without enquiring further, the red and blue Commander swiftly braced his hands on Ironhide's shoulders, twisted him around and shoved him none-too-elegantly down onto his back with a harsh thump.

"HEY!" Ironhide blinked up at his sudden view of the hangar ceiling. "Slagger! What was that for?! I've got permission!"

"Femme's request, Ironhide. Put up with it," Prime replied, shifting himself closer to the action as Elita threw a leg over Ironhide's hips and settled herself sitting up on his waist.

Elita hitched herself backwards to sit on the other side of Ironhide's crotch, ensuring that his rapidly hardening mech spike was between her and him. With a sly grin, she took him into both of her hands, tested his hardness for a few moments with her fingertips and then began pumping him without mercy.

"LITA! What... no! Don't do that!" Ironhide squirmed uncomfortably, trying to sit up. He was going to overload in record time if she kept that up!

"You need to climax first, I know what you're like, Chromia likes to gossip. You need a quick first overload before we can move onto other, more _interesting_, positions at a leisurely pace." Elita squeezed him from root to tip in one hand sweep to illustrate her point. His spike was already throbbing and moving along fast towards a resolution. To give him more incentive, she unlocked her crotch armor and opened the entrance to her femme port, giving him quite an erotic view. It helped that she squeezed the edges of her port with her inner cables, getting the glistening mouth of it to open and flex like that of a fish. A clear expression on her part of 'you know what's coming next, big bot'.

Ironhide groaned and thunked his head back down onto the berth. Defeated. He had to admit that if she wanted him to perform a 'quickie', she was going the right way about it, and with Optimus lying casually on his side a hands breadth away with his optics enjoying the show, his systems went into overdrive. He was starting to realise that while he knew Chromia had no inhibitions on the berth, her best friend wasn't so modest about her talents either. He started to hump himself with hard thrusts up into Elita's determined hands.

"Elita..."

At her sparkmates murmur of her name, the femme took her attention off Ironhide for a moment, turning her head to glance at him. She almost completely lost the plot when he slid a hand around her head armor to lean her towards him and press his mouthplates to hers, and at the same time, his other hand inserted itself between her legs, and two of his fingers penetrated her in a gentle gliding motion. Elita gasped into his mouth and went rigid at the unexpected invasion of her port.

Seeing that was the end for Ironhide. When he saw Optimus' hand rummaging between her legs, he went over the edge. With a harsh bark from his vocal processor his back strained upwards off the berth and he overloaded transfluid all over himself and Elita in several spurts.

Optimus stared down at him and pulled his fingers free from Elita's body. Seeing her with her hand around the rigid climaxing spike of another mech had sent his own arousal soaring. His own spike was straining rudely upwards to its full impressive height and bumping its head against his midsection. Watching his friend, his optic sweepers clicked together. "Feel better?", he enquired.

The other mech grunted back at him, waiting for the last vestiges of his overload to drain away. His body relaxed comfortably on the berth in a sprawl. "Yeah." He lifted one large hand and patted Elita on her thigh in thanks, "That was great. Been a while." He noticed the mess he'd made of Elita. "Whoops."

"Hmm." Optimus studied him. "'Been a while' since you overloaded, or 'been a while' since a hand other than your own caused you too?"

"...I'm not answering that..."

"I am. You're going back up again. You haven't overloaded for a while." Elita answered for him and perused his interface as it began hardening again. It had only sagged halfway down before hardening and popping back up in front of her like a flagpole. "We all know you're missing 'Mia. There's no shame in that."

::_Enough of this pitying slag, let's set her up, Optimus:_: Ironhide commed to his mech friend while Lita kept talking about how Chromia would turn up and then he'd be all happy again.

Optimus smiled faintly, his optics going the exact same color as the blue flames on his armor. _::Fine with me::_

Elita hissed when she was neatly plucked off Ironhide's body and cradled by Prime against his own. She gripped the protruding armor of his torso and tried to get her balance but Optimus wasn't giving her any chance of that. At a jerk of Ironhide's head to indicate that he should lay her on the berth, Elita found herself placed on her back with two huge mechs intent on using her body for pleasure leaning over her with their chests, one on either side of her position. The formidable spikes of both mechs were unsheathed and fully erect.

"Uh oh..." the Femme Commander said nervously. Now she knew how it felt to be prey for two very serious predators...


	2. Chapter 2

**Hearts Desire**

Authors Note: Glad you guys like it! Plenoptic, sit down, put away the stick and turn the capslock off, silly! LOL

**Chapter Two**

Optimus Prime and Ironhide loomed over Elita One with their crotch plates open and seriously hard erections just waiting to be used for her pleasure.

The sight of both males in such an excited state and at her service had the spark in Elita's chest pulsing so hard she put a hand to her chest in concern. She had to admit that she was a teeny bit uneasy with what Ironhide might do. Yes, she wanted to help him, yes, she was the one to bring up the whole idea BUT – she knew that Ironhide's reputation as a hardcore interfacer was a worry on her CPU. Her Optimus was a gentle giant with a spark as big as the sun but he had only been with a handful of femmes in his life and hadn't been exposed to very many interfacing techniques. Ironhide was much more experienced, he'd been with too many femmes to ever attempt to count, and he was very open about that. She was going to be relying on Optimus to pull the black mech back if he did something she wasn't enjoying.

Prime glanced at Ironhide and back at his femme. "Elita, I think setting some rules for this would put you at ease. We don't want to overwhelm you too much. Don't you agree, Ironhide?"

Ironhide didn't reply. The black mech was busy staring at Elita's incredible rose-colored body and her open, moist, femme port. He hadn't seen one for so long he couldn't take his optics off it. The end of his spike twitched with eagerness. For him this was a serious turn-on, just looking at her made him want to slide his hands up his spike and jerk until he emitted transfluid all over his front . Having the opportunity to take the Femme Commander on her own berth was a mechs dream come true. All of the femmes wanted Optimus on their berth – it was common fantasy - and the same could be said about Elita for the mechs. She was forbidden territory.

Not this night... not for him!

Getting tired of waiting for a response from his officer, Optimus lifted a hand and smacked him in the back of the head with a clang.

Ironhide jerked from his musing over the femme wantonly spread out in front of him and glared at him, bringing up his hands, "What?!"

"We need a safe word for Elita to use if she wants us to stop," Optimus stated, his broad shoulders up and stiffened in a gesture of 'listen up'.

'Hide's optics darkened, his mouthplates forming the best pout they could muster, "...why would she want us to stop?"

Prime drew a hand over his noseplates and sighed, then looked up at his mate, "Elita, just say the word 'reboot' if you desire us to pull back and cease activities." He pointed one thick silver finger at Ironhide, "Especially him."

Elita nodded. She couldn't take anything they said that seriously when they were essentially naked and their spikes were in a comical position for their anatomy – straight up. She sat up on her elbows, wondering who was going first. Having experienced many times what Prime's silver spike felt like, she was curious to have Ironhide inside of her. Optimus certainly had the bigger dimensions, but Ironhide's darker colored spike wasn't far behind. The differences she could see amounted to Ironhide's spike having a fatter 'head', and his length curved slightly to the right, whereas Optimus was perfectly straight, and the thickness of his rod very nearly matched the thickness at the head of his spike so it was not as pronounced.

"Who is going first?" she asked, blinking her optics at them.

Optimus initiated a rapid communication with his Weapons Specialist. _::Are you up for a little experimentation, Ironhide?::_

_::What are you up to?::_

_::Both of us, together. Me in front, you behind. I'll prepare her, you just keep your wandering hands to yourself until I signal you. Yes or no?::_

_::Can Elita handle that?::_

_::Of course. I've used her other entrance before, she enjoys it. I'm not into it that much but you can if you wish to. It should surprise her::_

_::You sneaky slagger. Does Magnus know how perverted you are? Mission accepted. Get going.::_

Optimus – her gorgeous, sweet and playful mech – surprised her with his response.

"Both of us..." he practically purred. Dropping his head down, he pressed his mouthplates briefly to her forehead, then put two fingers under her chin and lifted her head up to look him in the optics. "Sit back and overload to your sparks content, my love." So saying, he motioned her to lie down flat and spread her legs so he could kneel between her splayed thighs.

The berth underneath the threesome groaned and creaked at the weight of the two mechs getting into position. Elita didn't have any idea where Ironhide was going. He moved around Prime's bulk to come up close to her head, then kneeled so his weight was positioned back on his heels. His hands went to his own spike, rubbing and playing openly with himself. He had no qualms about touching himself in front of another mech, obviously.

"Go ahead, Optimus," he rumbled.

Optimus Prime surveyed his femme. A medic couldn't get a better view than he had at the moment. Ratchet would be proud. Her legs were drawn up at the knees and situated wide apart on either side of his hips, her port was open and glossy with lubricating fluid, her optics soft with a pert expression of need for him... just perfect. Keeping his blue optics on hers, Prime covered her port with the palm of one hand, rubbing over her most intimate entrance. She murmured quietly at him, pushing her hips up to his touch.

Moving smoothly, the Autobot Commander stopped rubbing. Using one hand, he touched the lips of her port and pressed them open, showing the 'hole' where his spike was eager to go. With his other hand, he inserted one finger and felt around. His optics blazed hot for a moment at the jerk of her body and her knees squeezing shut against his hip armor. He turned his finger over and rubbed the roof of her port without going too far in, a rumble of pleasure coming from his chest when she cheekily squeezed the length of his finger with her inner cables. She tried to grab his hand and forcefully shove him in further but her strength couldn't get him to budge.

"Optimus..." she pleaded.

"No, Elita, just wait. Wait..." he said soothingly, "I'll be in here soon."

Another finger joined the one inside of her, beginning to stretch her delightedly. Anything of his he put into her was always more than welcome.

Elita dropped her head back and writhed on the berth while pumping her hips. Wanting more. She wanted him deeper. She wanted him between her legs and driving hard enough to make her scream. Fluid was beginning to drip out from her port with excitement. Prime's fingers down to his palm were covered with it.

Optimus put three fingers inside of her and began thrusting his hand in small movements, watching her reaction and analysing how revved up she was. She arched and quivered for him. He nodded to himself.

Ironhide was fascinated at this insight into what the fabled Autobot Commander was like when he pleasured a femme. He'd thought Optimus would get on top, thrust away until Elita overloaded, climax himself into her, and that would be that. He had under-estimated Prime's inventiveness and imagination. It was not as if his spike wasn't ready to go. The thick organ was quivering with need and Prime was shifting his weight about on his knees. Getting restless.

Once again, Optimus turned his fingers over so he could touch the ceiling of her port. With his other hand, he pressed into a space between her armor and her protoform over her lower belly above her port, getting the fingers on her outer skin to press against the fingers _inside_ her port through her abdomen. He looked for all the world like a bigger, red-and-blue version of Ratchet doing an exam on a femme.

Elita shrieked when he hit a certain spot inside of her with his finger. Her hips hovered in the air and pushed back at him frantically, her chest rising from the bed. Fingers that had become claws scraped against the recharge berth and her mate's powerful thighs. "_Please!_"

"Wait, Lita, don't you dare, don't come yet, make it last," Prime encouraged her firmly, his voice betraying nothing of the fact that his spike was dribbling pre-transfluid down his length and desperate to climax. He quickly removed one hand from her to rub over his twitching spike and squeeze the end. For a second he froze, bowing his helmeted head, faceplates grimacing. He was close to releasing himself. Using his forefinger and his thumb, he squeezed harshly under the ridged tip and waited for a few moments until the overwhelming sensation to spill his transfluid died down a fraction.

Ironhide watched with narrowed optics, keeping one of his hands working roughly at his own spike. He had thought that Optimus was too shy to touch or fondle himself in front of him. He'd been wrong. Or maybe the big mech was just getting desperate... that spike of his looked like it could use three hands to attend to it, not one. It was amazing the thing could stay upright at all. He had seen mechs with spikes too big to stand erect without a prominent bend in the middle.

"Keep her chest down, Ironhide," Prime rumbled, sending him a sharp look.

"Got it," Ironhide grinned, dropping one hand over her chest and keeping her flat. Even in the midst of heavy arousal Optimus could still hand out the orders. His spike poked into Elita's shoulder and he encouraged that contact. She was becoming frantic. "What, er, are you doing down there? She's manic!"

Optimus cocked an optic ridge at him, "Femmes have a pleasure node inside of their port-"

"Well, _duh_."

"Shut it, 'Hide. The node – Elita, stay still! Wriggling femme! - can be overstimulated by pressing on her protoform from above and using one finger inside her port from underneath. If you can find it and trap it between two fingers... you, uh, can see the _results_..." Now Prime really was gritting his jaw and trying to stay calm. His spike was actively dripping now.

Oh yeah. Ironhide could see it. The femme was spasming in front of him. Her hands grabbed and scratched at the mech manipulating her body. Thumps of metal armor colliding with Prime's own metal told Ironhide she was drumming her heels into the stoic Commander's sides. While her body was almost exploding with movement, Optimus's bigger body was patiently taking whatever punishment she could deal out to it. All this just to please her. Ironhide had to admire such fortitude.

In a movement that startled Elita, Optimus inserted a surprise probing finger into her rear port while keeping up the thrusting of his other hand into her main port. He moved in and out gently, getting her to groan. She now had an inkling of what was coming.

Abruptly, Optimus abandoned both of her ports and placed his hands on her thighs, keeping them apart for him. He shuffled his crotch closer to her. Ironhide watched with rapt optics full of lust. Prime lowered his spike to rub it up and down the slit where her port was housed. He was teasing her. Testing her readiness to receive what he had to offer.

Elita keened and struggled against him, her armor flashing as she moved. The pleasure was maddening. She wanted to grab Prime by his spike and shove him inside her far enough to end up in her throat. "_Optimus... _I need you! NOW!"

Her mate's optics flashed, "Then you shall have me."

He swiftly lifted her up over his kneeling legs and held her against his chest. "Easy... I'm here, just wait for me... it's coming..."

She whimpered and pushed her face into his shoulder. Her arms hugged around his neck, her tense hips struggling to sit down and sheath his spike within her port. He was resolute in keeping her weeping port above his spike and out of her grasp. She planted her mouthplates on his shoulder strut and bit down – hard. "Let me down, slag it! STUFF THE WAITING~!"

Optimus wince, a shiver running up his flame-decorated body at her biting into his shoulder cables. He didn't waver from his plan though. Just the same as battlefield tactics, plans were to be followed, regardless of rabid femmes heaving themselves over your rigid spike and attacking your shoulder like a sharkticon. ::_Ironhide, lubricate yourself up and get behind her.:: _

With a grunt of 'Finally!', the other mech got behind Elita on his knees, his rigid spike swaying with his movements. He dipped his fingers into Elita's gaping port and scooped out two fingers full of her discharge, then covered his spike with it. His optics met Prime's over the top of the struggling femme. With a nod, he settled his hands on Elita's shaking hips. Ready.

Holding his beloved sparkmate up with one hand, Optimus grasped his spike with his other hand and lowered Elita enough so he could aim where he wanted to go. Ironhide did likewise at Elita's back, except he was aiming for a completely different port. Her rear entrance.

_::Together. One, two, THREE!::_

Optimus let Elita go and slipped inside of her in one smooth move. Ironhide was a bit slower, he had a tighter entrance to conquer. The result was a strangled scream of delight from the impaled Femme Commander.

"Go, go! She won't last...!" Optimus panted, his hips on a mission. It was awkward keeping his femme in the middle of them but they were doing it. The pleasure was intoxicating. He groaned, "Primus, I won't either!"

Optimus had never done a double penetration before. Elita was clutching at his chest armor with her head hanging back and her slender throat exposed to him. He could feel the movement of Ironhide's spike thrusting into his femme, his bulk was narrowing the space Optimus had to work with in Elita's primary port. It was the most extraordinary sensation. Naughty. This was the kind of thing he'd seen on underground interfacing databytes from the more illegal sectors of Cybertron, and the humans were fond of it as well. He'd done his share of ogling the mating Earthlings on the World Wide Web.

When Elita intensely overloaded and hit her peak moments later, she no longer had the voice to scream. Her mouthplates opened soundlessly with her head flung back against Ironhide's heaving chest and her hands gripping Optimus' chest armor in a death grip. Her body jerked and writhed on his spike. The mechs kept her going with repeated thrusting. They had gotten into a rhythm where one entered while the other withdrew.

"Ahhh... SLAG~!" Optimus joined her, his body rocked with spasmodic waves of pleasure centred around his spike buried within his overloading femme. He kept hunching into her until transfluid stopped coming out from his spewing spike. This overload was the most intense he'd experienced for a while. He dropped his head down onto her shoulder with a groan, clutching her body to his own. The whole naughty idea of letting another mech into his berth with Elita was something he wanted to repeat – but it was unlikely they'd find another mech they both thought was acceptable. And private.

"Hold her!" Ironhide said in a strangled moan, pushing Elita forward and onto Prime's chest, while he bent over her back and started pumping lewdly with his hips.

Optimus rubbed one hand up and down Elita's back and watched Ironhide take his pleasure. She had turned her face into his chest between his split windscreen and was making happy whimpering sounds. His sagging length was still inside Elita's port, he could feel Ironhide's bulging spike moving up and down.

When the black mech finally finished, holding himself upright on wide trembling thighs, he rubbed his hands over her back. "You, ugh, you okay, Lita?"

A muffled 'yes,' came back at him, followed by a chuckle.

"Good." Ironhide planted a kiss onto the top of her head and gently pulled his hips backwards. Elita arched her back up and clenched her port around him on reflex when he removed himself from her. He sat back on his aft and stretched his thick black legs out untidily. Optimus watched him take his slowly deflating spike in one hand and rub it up and down, soothing it.

Optimus shook his head and hugged his femme to him. He softly brushed the back of his hand over her cheekplates, "Did you enjoy that?"

Elita pulled herself up higher against him – causing his limp spike to disengage from her port - and rubbed her noseplates against his playfully, ending it with a lingering kiss. Her optics blazed at him. "Oh yes. It doesn't get much better than that. You're good, Optimus, you really are. Thank you." She looked at Ironhide over her shoulder and winked one optic. "Both of you."

"Welcome," Ironhide rumbled, finishing rubbing himself off and retracting his used spike back into its housing in his groin. "Now go find yourselves another berth, you two, I'm claiming this one for me tonight." So saying, he lay himself down on his back and settled into a comfortable position, scratching at his chest armor and grunting.

Optimus looked at the beautiful femme sitting in his lap and lifted his optic ridges. "I could shove my rifle up his aft..."

"No, don't do that," she patted his cheekplates with one hand, smiling, "shoving him over the edge will do. We've done enough aft reaming for tonight, don't you think?"

Always attuned to the commands of his femme, Prime lifted one long armored leg, braced his foot against Ironhide's hip and pushed. Hard. His legs were stronger than his arms, which was saying something. Ironhide was moving sideways before he knew what was going on. He landed over the side of the berth with a ground-shaking crash and a high-pitched yell.

"SLAGGER!"

"Good night, Ironhide."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hearts Desire**

Authors Note: Thank you for all the reviews! I'm replying as much as I can, slowly but steadily. :-) Here's yet more Optimus erotica!

**Chapter Three**

From his position on the floor of Optimus and Elita's room, Ironhide grumbled to himself. Invited for interface, overloaded twice, then shoved off the berth without so much as a 'You're wonderful Ironhide, thank you'. He snorted. He wouldn't have known what to do with a thank you, anyway. Those kind of words made him cringe.

"Ironhide...?"

The soft murmur of Elita One's melodic voice drifted down to him. He looked up. Prime's femme was hanging over the edge of the massive berth, her fingers over the berth lip with her chin propped on them, her optics soft and inquiring.

"I would love for you to stay the night, I won't let Optimus push you off again. Please?"

Ironhide flared his optic shutters. How did that femme manage to get such an utterly sweet and innocent look on her faceplates? She fooled Optimus all the time with that combination of energon-goodie sweet innocence, and a ferocious temper and rifle as her back-up.

He and Optimus had just finished two-timing her, both of them concentrating on keeping the slender, curvaceous femme sandwiched between them while they overloaded themselves into her two ports. He smiled faintly at the images and feelings of his romp on the berth in his CPU. Optimus nestling himself between the wide open thighs of his femme, inserting his fingers into her and warming her up before entering her with his spike and going deep. He remembered the feel of Prime's heavy spike rubbing against his through the thin metal separating Elita's ports. The intense expression on Prime's faceplates when he overloaded into Elita; the flexible metal of his upper mouthplates opening outwards in a grimacing pout, his optics flaring, chest armor spread wide by his arching back, his appearance at the point of appearing agonised by the intense pleasure flowing through his spasming physique.

He wanted more of that. Optimus was damn interesting when he lowered his 'Prime' persona and indulged his desires. He'd have to work on getting the fragger to try some other, more risque, experiences.

"Eh," Ironhide said in answer to her plea, and rubbed one hand over the side of his head, avoiding her gaze, "you sure? Your friendly sparkmate just handed me my marching orders with his foot."

The black mech was surprised by Optimus leaning over Elita's body – thank Primus for long arms – and extending his hand palm out to his friend. "Get up here and stop back-chatting, soldier," he rumbled warmly, optics shining. His hand waiting to be grasped. "Come on, up you get."

Slag it. More touchy-feely stuff. He felt a warm sensation flooding his spark chamber, helping to ease the pain of Chromia's absence. He'd have to be tortured to admit but it would be nice to recharge with another spark-warm body nearby. Maybe he would be able to get some real rest...

He grasped Prime's hand, his spark jumping at the way Optimus closed his silver fingers around his black accented digits. Ironhide silently rose to his feet - then paused and looked down at himself. The inside of his thighs and his crotch were covered with Elita's drying lubricant. Not to mention his own transfluid discharge on his chestplates from her enthusiastic hand-job. A glance down at Prime's body showed him to be not much better off.

Optimus noticed. "We better tidy ourselves up."

"I've got wipes," Elita said helpfully, subspacing a small pile of cleanser fluid impregnated cloths into her hands.

"No, dirty mechs need more than that I'm afraid," Prime chuckled, patting her shoulder. "Ironhide and I will use the hose outside. Won't be long." He slid his tall self off the berth and motioned for Ironhide to follow him. The black mech did so.

Once they got to the hangar doors the never-ending rain greeted them.

"Maybe we won't need the hose..." Prime mused out loud, lifting an optic ridge and staring out into the wet black night, his red, blue and chrome body backlit by the lights from the hangar.

Ironhide grunted, brushing past him to step fully outside, allowing the rain to cover his thick body before he began rubbing at his metal to clean away 'evidence'. Optimus tilted his head and watched him. He was such a simple mech, 'Hide. Jobs were done as they needed to be, without fuss, simple actions, easy outcomes. No obstacle was ever so great that pounding his head against it or using his cannons wouldn't fix it.

Prime walked out to join his friend in the rain. As long as they rinsed off the 'fluids' on their bodies, raising their body temperature would evaporate the water quickly afterwards – all the better to get back to the beautiful femme waiting for them on the recharge berth. His peripheral vision caught Ironhide opening his crotch plates. He felt a tingle in his chest and tried not to stare when the mech casually extended his used spike and began lovingly cleaning it; stroking, rubbing; using his palm and fingertips to good effect. He didn't appear embarrassed or modest at all about himself. He was quite comfortable with displaying his intimate parts.

Optimus hesitated, thinking. He was a very private mech, not prone to revealing himself, but if Ironhide felt comfortable with it... Making a decision, he straightened himself up and sent a signal down below so his groin armor retracted. It took him a few more moments of gathering up his courage to think about revealing his own spike, the thick organ staying within its sheltering hole while its master contemplated. Slag, he just couldn't take the final step to get his 'little Prime' out in a non-interfacing situation in front of another mech...

"Get it out, Optimus, stop being so nervous," Ironhide spoke.

Prime looked at him and widened his optics. Ironhide's spike was beginning to thicken and rise. He was semi-hard and stroking himself from base to tip without a care in the world, standing with his thighs spread wide apart in a laid-back position and his hands touching his spike sticking out in front of him without any trace of embarrassment. Optimus was shocked even more when the other mech removed one hand from his spike and held it out palm upwards in front of Prime's spike housing.

"Put it in my palm, you shy fragger." His deep voice rumbled, fingers beckoning. "Come on. I don't know what you're worried about, your spike is huge, stop tucking it away and keeping it to yourself. I just watched you playing with your femme and thrusting yourself up inside her next to my spike! What on Cybertron are you being shy about now?"

"I-I... er..." Optimus stuttered, his words coming to a halt. It just made him feel so awkward to be looked at. Or touched.

He knew what the problem was. In the heat of the moment with his urges aroused and wanting to interface, it barely crossed his CPU to be 'shy' about exposing himself, especially when he was around his beloved sparkmate. His systems over-rode his timidness. But when his metal was cold... no. He was excruciatingly self-concious. They had told the humans that Cybertronians didn't have any hang-up's about intimacy, that they shared and displayed themselves with no trouble at all... most of them. He wasn't going to volunteer to made an addendum saying , 'Except Optimus, he has issues'.

Ironhide boldly tapped the tip of his index finger onto the barely visible rounded of Prime's retracted spike, making Optimus cringe his hips backwards. "Bring it out, you're not going to get past this until you do."

"Ironhide, I don't think this is really-"

"Out. Now."

"The humans-"

"Are asleep at this hour of the night, and the guards can't see us in the dark in any case. Use your sensors if you want to be really pedantic."

Ironhide kept his palm out. Waiting. He was going to break his Leader of being this silly even if it offlined him. Only Primus knew why he had such a problem with revealing himself.

Finally, Optimus blew air out of his intakes and flexed his crotch. His long spike came out willingly into Ironhide's waiting hand.

"Good mech..." Ironhide smirked, closing his fingers around Prime's equipment, "now why was that so hard?"

"It's not hard, its limp," Optimus said sourly, putting his hands on his hips and staring down at himself in Ironhide's hand.

The black mech chuckled in an almost evil way. He moved himself to stand in front of Optimus, then began squeezing and caressing Prime's spike, the rain washing away the dried lubricant from Prime's incursion into Elita. He stopped touching himself with his other hand to concentrate both hands on Optimus, leaving his own erection upright and very lonely.

"What are you _doing_?" Optimus spluttered when it became obvious that his spike was now VERY clean and Ironhide was still caressing it. Prime could feel his systems waking up, sending slow but insistent throbs of pleasure up from his crotch. If Ironhide didn't get his hand off soon, he'd soon find himself touching a very 'prime' erection – and that would make Optimus' discomfort double.

"I'm not into mechs that much, they're okay, I prefer femmes, but you know what?" Ironhide said conversationally, fondling the head of Prime's spike with his fingers while taking the body of it into his palm and squeezing it, "You need this. You haven't been with another male before, have you?"

Optimus Prime's jaw worked like that of a guppy fish. His length was rising steadily upwards in Ironhide's experienced hands, and it was scaring him that he was enjoying it. "NO!"

"Thought not. You have to let me do this, I have a feeling that Elita would LOVE to see you and me going at it, but you need to be broken of this 'don't touch me' attitude. She wants a show, we'll give her one. She deserves it."

Prime struggled for what to say to _that_ kind of argument. He'd do anything for Elita, but did that include interfacing with a mech? With Ironhide?!

"Turn around."

"What?"

Ironhide frowned at him, his optics shining an intense blue through the rainwater streaming down from his head armor, "I said turn around."

"Why?!"

With a growl, Ironhide grabbed his shoulders, spun him around and pushed him against the hangar wall. The building shuddered at the impact. Optimus found himself with his chest and noseplates pressed into the exterior of the building, and Ironhide leaning against his back. Prime planted his hands on the wall and tried to push off. No way was Ironhide letting him go, he pushed back with his body and kept him in place. Optimus would have to hurt him to get free.

...and then getting free became the last thing on his CPU. Ironhide's hands were doing a number on him. The mech was reaching around his hips with both arms, using his hands on Prime's now fully hardened and excited spike. One hand squeezed the base, the other cupped his length and made harsh jerks. Hard enough that Prime's hips were pulled forward with each tug.

"If you really want me to let go, just say so, but make sure that's what you really want," Ironhide murmured in his audio, upping the pace of his hands on the other mech's spike.

Prime closed his optic shutters, let his forehead rest on the wall - and stayed silent.

He was caught up in the sensations of his Weapons Specialist's amazing hands. It felt absolutely, freaking WONDERFUL to have his interface treated by hands other than his own that knew EXACTLY what to do, the way he'd want to touch himself if he was doing it. When Elita touched him; Primus bless her spark; she was nowhere near as hard and demanding, and she had certainly never pulled at him so hard that his hips were pulled out of position. Her fingers were light and probing. Full of love. Ironhide was a mech, he knew exactly how much force to use and he wasn't shy about doing so. He was treating Prime's spike the same way he treated his own, jerking him off with the right pace and firmness to get fast and explosive results.

Getting bolder, Ironhide let his hips settle against Prime's aft. Black armor scraped against red and blue flames. Optimus was a mech-on-mech virgin. Who would've thought it?

"C'mon, Optimus, come for me, I want that wall painted with your mech fluids. Keep it up... you can do it..."

"Ngh, Primus..." Optimus gasped, his hips working harder. He tilted his head back, gasping. It didn't matter how much he moved his body, Ironhide's magic hands kept up with him.

Ironhide was now actively grinding his hard spike into Prime's heaving aft, their bodies keeping pace with each other. Slag, no other mech could get close to how hot Optimus Prime's physique was. The rain turned into wisps of steam wherever it hit their bodies. This was turning him on. He wanted to touch himself but one hand wouldn't be enough on Prime's interface so he settled with rubbing it against Prime's beckoning rear end.

"If you need extra incentive, think of Elita overloading with my spike shoved into her to the hilt – while you watch..." Ironhide purred in a sultry tone. "She'll scream for me, I know she will."

Prime's fingers curled into his palms and his body went rigid up to the building. With a light scream his spike ejaculated his transfluid in hot spurts onto the hangar wall. His rapid pants brought a feral grin of success to Ironhide's faceplates.

"Ugh...ugh..." Optimus dropped his head down and rotated his hips feverishly, his spinal strut flexing, getting the last of the overload out of his spike.

"Good mech... good mech..." Ironhide muttered, and kept squeezing and pulling Prime's interface until it started to lose its hardness, then he levered himself away from leaning on the back of the bigger male and put his hands on himself. With a grimace and a few hard tugs, he sprayed his overload onto the ground between Prime's splayed metal feet.

Optimus barely noticed. He was resting his head on the wall and recovering. A long grinding shudder rocked his body. He moaned.

"I don't have enough wipes to clean _that_ up, Primus you mechs make a mess, why can't you have internal overloads like femmes can?"

Optimus Prime froze. Horrified. Ironhide barked a loud laugh. When Prime lifted his head cautiously, he found Elita standing just inside the hangar doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, her body braced on stiff and planted legs. Her usual Femme Commander pose. How long had she been watching them?!

"...someone kill me..." Prime whispered weakly. The rain was already removing the 'evidence' of his pleasure from the wall, but the more sticky remnants of it remained as sparkly silver particles in globs.

Elita's facial expression was alternating between trying not to laugh and being flabbergasted. She shook her head, releasing her arms from being across her chest. Optimus watched, cringing, as she came over to him. Her optics met his. "At least I can't accuse you of being with another femme." She smiled indulgently at him and glanced at his mess on the wall. "You'd better wipe that down before the humans come around in the morning and start asking questions. I don't think saying 'aliens did it' will work this time." Her optics surveyed his wet body. "You missed a bit..." she purred, staring at his groin. With gentle fingers, she stripped the last of his transfluid off the underside of his hanging spike where it had dribbled from his tip and shook her fingers in the rain to remove it.

Ironhide's optics brightened hopefully when she faced him and stared at his spike. "Oh no, you can clean that one up yourself. And hurry up, we need to get SOME recharge before the sun comes up." Turning away to go back inside, she flipped a wave at both of them over her shoulder, offering a sexy smile, "I want two clean and dry mechs on my berth in five Earth minutes. Move it, soldiers!"

"Yes ma'am," Ironhide growled, smirking. He shrugged when Optimus sent him a disbelieving look. "You heard your femme, she wants us BOTH on her berth."

Optimus rolled his optics, standing up to his full height and spinning the engraved metal circles on the side of his head armor. "WE are going to talk in the morning," he rumbled deeply.

"Sure."

"..._Seriously_, talk."

"Okay." Ironhide grinned at him. Not worried.

Prime grimaced, grumbled for a few moments more, then gave in. Ironhide was Ironhide. He couldn't help but love him. "Dry yourself off so you don't offend my femme, and if I find your hands on my spike again before morning, I'll dismantle your cannons and ship them off to Antarctica."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hearts Desire**

Authors Note: Extreme warnings for this one! EXTREME! Optimus and Ironhide are getting very hot and heavy here! Pure sex and vivid imagery ahead! I DO NOT do torture, gore, or anything like that, but this is very much Transformers pr0n. Thank you for all the comments, favourites and alerts. As always, much appreciated. ;-) If you're after another good fic, _**Aozoran **_has written a wonderful fic for me starring Ultra Magnus getting romantic with Omega Supreme (for those of you who know Omega, yes, he is a huge battle/space station, but there is a special trick to this!) called **'Senses: Hearing: The Deaf****Shall Hear**'. I recommend it.

**Chapter Four**

Ironhide lifted his head. He could hear the rumble of the human Army vehicles that NEST used passing by the hangar. Human voices floated past his audios. It was what had brought him out of recharge – far too early, in his opinion. He was not good with mornings. Ratchet usually chased his aft off the berth on his way to the medbay at some stupid hour of the morning.

He looked around. Thin streams of sunlight were coming in through the crack under the berthroom door. Morning. His optics turned downwards to see the sleek femme form lying between him and Optimus on the recharge berth. The Femme Commander's small dark red form was being 'spooned' (Ironhide loved that term the organics used, it was just so _right_) by the huge mass of her sparkmate, Optimus Prime. She had her head resting on his forearm, both of her hands clutching at the warm metal of his arm, and she mewled softly when he moved against her in his recharge. Ironhide had never seen a couple that looked so _right_ together. He was certain that if Primus did indeed exist, he had pulled strings and moved planets to get them coupled as sparkmates. Perhaps it was even some sort of payment to Optimus Prime for taking on the role of 'Prime' and Autobot Commander. A beautiful femme to call his own, a female that loved him back as much as he loved her.

The black mechs optics dimmed. Such thoughts brought the absence of his own sparkmate; Chromia; back to the front of his CPU. He clenched his jawplates. He was not going to give in to his depression. He would not. He couldn't. He desperately began playing back images and memories of the sensual pleasures Optimus and Elita had shared with him last night. It wasn't enough.

...the pain that flowed in and around his spark made him curl up on his side, optics flickering in distress.

"Ironhide?"

Frag it. He tried to un-curl himself and be relaxed. Tried to appear unaffected. He didn't want to be worried over.

"Ugh..." Clamping down his mouthplates to stop himself from emitting any more sounds, Ironhide shuddered and went still.

A large hand reached out and pressed itself to his shoulder, squeezing enough to let him know it was there. He could sense kind blue optics focused on him. "You should not have to suffer alone, my friend. We're here. Please, let us help."

"I'm not suffering..." Ironhide mumbled, not willing to lift his head. "M'okay."

He didn't move or look up when he felt Optimus move upon the berth. He got off it, seemed to walk somewhere. The berth creaked when his weight returned – and a large body reclined behind him and pressed itself to his back. One red and blue flamed arm reached over him and fitted a hand snuggly to the plates on his chest where his spark was.

"Optimus, you fragger, I don't need _hugging_," Ironhide protested gruffly.

"You do," that unmistakable Commanderish baritone rumbled in his audio up close, causing Ironhide to snort. If Optimus had possessed his unique voice like this when he was a sparkling, he must've been a riot to listen to. "Accept it for a little while. The ache will ease when your spark senses another so close. I believe mine is big enough to soothe it."

"I thought I'd seen and felt everything big that you possess last night," Ironhide grumbled.

"Not quite. I have one request to make," Optimus replied.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"...move in a little bit so my aftplates are not hanging off the berth?" Optimus spoke wryly. "I'm just clinging on here."

Ironhide chuckled and complied, shifting across to give his Commander more room. It put him closer to the quiet form of Elita One. She was still recharging peacefully, not seeming at all disturbed by the two mechs she was sharing the berth with moving and talking. Ironhide mused that being with a huge mech like Optimus, she was used to the noises and movements he made and tuned them out, otherwise she'd never get a decent recharge.

"You're lucky," Ironhide murmured into the silence after a while. Optimus was right. His spark was settling and humming to itself at his close presence. The pain was easing. "Elita is a wonderful female."

"I know," Optimus said simply in a hushed tone. "I never forget. I think of her a thousand times a day. She always makes my spark sing."

"Sappy bot..." Ironhide mumbled, dimming his optics.

"Hush. Recharge for another hour, you need it." There was a slight pause. "Come back here tonight. I quite enjoyed our time together."

"Really?"

Optimus reached a hand down Ironhide's midsection to tap one finger on his closed crotch plating, "Yes."

Optimus was right – wasn't he always? - his spark was settling. The only thing; or bot; that could fix him completely was Chromia, but Optimus was the next best thing. Ironhide lay quietly and drifted off into recharge with his spark peacefully humming behind his chestplates. He wasn't thrilled about Optimus holding him like a sparkling or a lover, but it would do. It had to.

When nightfall came and the base began winding down for the day, Ironhide made his way across the tarmac to Prime and Elita's hangar, stealthily avoiding direct-line-of-sight with the guards. When the entered the berth room, he found Elita already in residence. He stopped and stared at her.

"Evening 'Hide..." Elita purred, her optics brightening as her head lifted to stare him straight in the optics. She was sitting on the huge berth with her legs folded in front of her, wrists dangling her hands from her bent knees...

...and her groin armor missing and her port was exposed. The overhead lights glinted off the lubricant beginning to dribble out of it. She seemed very comfortable with appearing open and interface-ready in front of him.

Ironhide felt his spike begin to twitch and his interfacing programs were insisting on extending it. He told it to back down – for the moment. He nodded at her, his optics jumping from staring at her port to her face and back again. What was a mech to do when a femme willingly showed her intimate parts? The only way for her to be more eager would be for her to put her fingers in it and spread the lips open. "Elita. Optimus said -"

"That you're staying with us again tonight?" she said brightly, her optics travelling over his very male body, her gaze settling on his closed groin covering. "I know, he wanted you to and so do I. It's nice to have another partner occasionally, and Optimus is worried about the state of your spark."

"Hmmm." Ironhide walked closer to stand in front of her, his feet making softened thumps on the concrete floor. "My spark can take care of itself. Optimus doesn't need yet more worries on his processor." He wondered what Elita would do if he reached out a finger and slid it into her. He was already picturing himself climbing on top of her, inserting his spike, and going deep enough to bring their groins flush together. He'd come easily. His hand clenched into a fist. _Easy, 'Hide, she's not yours, wait until the lugnut gets here._

The Femme Commander gave an extravagant sigh and lay down on her back, stretching languidly, her armor clinking and separating with her movements. Slowly, she pulled her knees up and casually spread her thighs open, watching his expression as she did so. Ironhide grunted. Riveted. Now that she was making her intentions clear – a femme did not spread her thighs like that in front of mech unless she WANTED a mech to insert himself and pump away like his life depended upon it – he didn't bother trying to _not_ look at her weeping port.

Ironhide's groin armor opened and retracted. He parted his spread standing thighs to show himself off to her. His semi-hard spike extended out smoothly. Standing at the foot of the berth with Elita's gaze on the prize between his legs, he lifted one hand and closed his palm around himself, stroking sweetly. Thumbing the round head, squeezing, fondling, just enjoying the sensations. Elita was entranced at his boldness. If Optimus touched himself in front of her it was straightforward and business-like. A rhythmic stroking that rarely varied.

"Not willing to wait for Optimus?" Elita murmured, lifting an optic ridge at Ironhide's eagerness to get started.

Ironhide met her gaze squarely, "I'll wait... unwillingly." When his spike was fully hard and up in front of him, he began making thrusts of his hips into his hand, getting good coverage from the base to the leaking tip.

In one elegant movement, Elita rolled over onto her hands and knees, wriggling her aft and open port at him. "I don't think Optimus will be too upset if you want to do a warm-up interface."

"No, femme," Ironhide chuckled, playing steadily with himself, "lots of looking but no touching. Not until Prime gets here."

Elita pouted, then grinned at him, lying back down with her legs spread open for him as a tease. Defeated. "He better hurry up then, or I'll go get another willing mech to help me out."

"One shout-out from you and every mech on base – mech or man – will be panting at your feet."

The femme smiled openly at him, "Now that is a fantasy I might just take on, one day."

The familiar sound of Optimus Prime's heavy striding footsteps announced his arrival. Elita expected Ironhide to at least pause in handling his engorged spike, but he didn't. Mechs. The imposing Autobot Leader stalled in the berth doorway. Elita was eagerly splayed out in front of his Weapons Specialist with her port open and Ironhide was touching himself. Prime's optics darkened at the erotic scene. He walked past Ironhide, brushing the black mechs shoulder warmly with his own.

"Ironhide, you came."

Elita laughed, covering her mouthplates with her hands at her sparkmates double-sided words, "No, not yet! He was waiting for you."

"Oh!" Prime blinked his optic shutters, understanding. He gave Ironhide a respectful look, "Wise." With a sigh out of his air intakes, the big mech lowered himself onto the berth. He lay back and opened one arm out to let Elita snuggle in to his chestplates. Ironhide heard a distinctive click and looked down – Optimus had retracted his groin armor, allowing his long thick spike to reach out from its casing. He was getting ready for what they all knew was soon to come. Elita reached a hand down and grabbed it. Optimus moaned, twitching.

"You still willing to use the position you showed me before?" Ironhide asked her, hands on his hips, watching.

The femme smirked, "Yup." Spreading Optimus Prime's thick armor-clad thighs apart, she got between them on hands and knees, presenting herself aft first to the other mech. "Warm me up first?"

"Gladly.." Ironhide purred. He kneeled on the berth behind her. Using one hand to steady her hips, he used the other to reach between her thighs, touching her port. She jerked and groaned when he rubbed at her with two fingers. "Like that?"

"More!"

"Alright."

He stroked, plunged, pushed and wriggled with his fingers. Her body reacted to every little movement he made, instantly accepting his touch in her most private of places. Areas that only Optimus had been given access to for several thousand years. She really didn't NEED anyone other than her mate, their matings were nearly always incredible enough by themselves, Ironhide was an extra – and very well appreciated – bonus.

Optimus lay back and propped his head up on the upraised ridge at the top of the bed, watching Elita's reactions. He currently had her mouth closed around his erection and sucking gently, while Ironhide fiddled with her from behind. She would arch her back occasionally and pull her mouth off his spike, leaving his excited male length vertical while she vocalised her pleasure at another mechs hands. He could see Ironhide's arm disappearing underneath her, his hand rummaging around in her nether regions.

"Oh yeah, that's it..." Ironhide roughly crooned when a gush of lubricant came from Elita's opening, coating his hand. Removing his fingers, he sat back on his heels, pulling hard at his spike, enjoying the view of her port ready and open for him. "You have no idea how good you look, femme."

Elita mumbled a response he couldn't make out. She had Prime's erect spike in her mouth and was sucking on it, running her glossa around the head.

"A little bit more, I think," Ironhide grunted, assessing her, returning his hand between her legs. He sat forward again. Putting his other hand on her back, he worked his fingers into her interface. It didn't take long for her interior walls to start happily squeezing around his probing digits, wanting something bigger inside. When she began to whine and pump her hips back at him, he soothed her. "No, no, femme, we're just getting started. Draw it out a little."

"I didn't think you had the patience for that, Ironhide," Optimus drawled around the pleasurable sensations of his sparkmate sucking him off. What part of his overly long spike she couldn't reach with her mouth he rubbed at with his fingers, careful not to upset her rhythm or get in her way. He put his hands on the back of her head, guiding her, humping in small thrusts. He was extremely careful not to let her take him in too far. It wouldn't be nice to choke her with his size.

Elita whined and grimaced when Ironhide shook his head and once again removed his hand. She knew she was approaching the point of no return very quickly, but she couldn't help herself.

"Sorry, 'Lita, you're too close to overload. Just calm down." Leaving her port alone, he concentrated on touching other parts of her body. Rubbing his hands over her hips, massaging her back, sliding his palm up and down her legs. Elita yelped and squeezed her thighs together.

"Keep'em apart 'Lita," Ironhide pushed his knee between her thighs and spread them. "Stay open for me, I want to see you."

She started urgently humping his intruding knee instead.

"FEMME! Stop that! You'll overload!" Ironhide said with frustration. To steady her, he pulled her restless hips back against his groin with his spike pressed into her aft so it was sticking up like a flagpole over her back. He dry humped her. "Calm down, calm down. Frag it, you really want spike, don't you?"

"Let her go, Ironhide, if she wants it that badly," Optimus advised breathlessly. "It'll be the first of many from us." He was clenching his hands into fists by his sides, ready to shoot off himself but holding it back - just.

Mouthing off a curse, the black mech used his hand to line himself up with Elita's weeping port, and thrust inside. "Come for me, 'Lita, let it happen," he soothed her, circling his hips with each thrust of his mech interface into her femme port.

Elita yanked her mouth off of Optimus, gasping. Her optics were wide and bright. Ironhide was forcing shunts of air out of her throat with each delve inside of her. Prime recognised she was on the brink of overloading when her right optic squinted and flickered. She always did that right before she got off. Loud pants of 'Ugh, Primus!' came from her and she immediately overloaded on Ironhide's erection inside of her.

Optimus murmured to her and stroked her cheek, watching her body shudder and twitch. When her head dropped and she groaned, he squeezed her shoulder, "Good femme... well done..." He looked up at Ironhide, "Are you going to overload?"

"I don't have to, but I could," the other mech replied through a gritted jaw, slowing down his thrusting.

"Back off for a moment," Optimus instructed, clambering to his knees with his heavy erect spike waving in front of his lower abdomen.

Ironhide steeled himself and pulled his hips backwards to remove his wet spike, withdrawing from the panting femme, giving Optimus room. Crouching to the side, he watched Optimus position himself on his knees behind Elita. The red and blue mech held his spike tightly, squeezing and rubbing himself, then with a soft curse and long groan, he held the very tip of his bulging spike at the entrance to Elita's wet used port and allowed his overload to come forth. Several strong spurts of transfluid covered Elita's port entrance while Optimus harshly grunted, keeping himself steady and on target. He was overloading himself over the sight of his femmes relaxed post-overload, port.

"You better move, because I can't hold back much longer," Ironhide whispered harshly, wanting him to hurry up. He was holding his spike with both hands. The sight of his colorfully flamed Commander bringing himself off to coat Elita between her legs was a thrill.

"Done..." Optimus murmured, relaxing, rubbing a hand in thanks over Elita's aft. His spike was coming down to hang in semi-hardness between his thighs. He got out of Ironhide's way.

Ironhide took mere seconds to get in behind, aim, and dive deeply into the recovering femme, pushing past the transfluid ejaculate that Optimus had covered her port with.

"Frag it!" Ironhide cursed, keeping himself deep inside Elita. His overload was sharp and quick. His thighs trembled while he rocked back and forth, holding Elita into the curve of his groin as he shunted his hips back and forth. He lifted Elita's knees off the berth with his final thrusts, then stayed inside her, recovering.

Optimus stretched himself out on his side alongside his mate. With gentle hands, he guided her mouthplates to his own, and kissed her warmly. He'd pull back, murmur an endearment, stroke her cheekplates with his thumb, then go in for another deep kiss. Elita nuzzled back at him between the lip-locking. When she felt Ironhide retract himself from her port, she sank down to lie next to him. He kept speaking intimately to her. Touching and praising her.

Not seeing any need to rush, Ironhide relaxed down onto his heels at the end of the berth. The night wasn't over. He wanted to try certain things with Optimus that hopefully would give Elita a few more overloads yet...


	5. Chapter 5

**Hearts Desire**

Authors Note: Yes, incredibly, here is yet MORE hopeless smut! Slash too! Optimus Prime and Ironhide while Elita watches. Please enjoy... phew... I know I'M hot enough after this!

**Chapter Five**

Ironhide lowered himself down onto the berth, stretching out on his back with his hands behind his head, watching Optimus Prime take Elita One into his arms and give her a through 'soppy and loving' going over. Kisses, whispers of love, his hands all over her chassis, touching her intimately after her hard overload. Ironhide was content to see his best friend and commander so happy, even if their intimacy painfully reminded him of his own lost love; Chromia. Just like the couple in front of him, he adored snuggling with his sparkmate after interfacing. He grimaced slightly. He missed her so much he thought his spark would offline.

"Optimus... stop that..." Elita breathed, dipping her head back and dimming her optics while her body shuddered under his knowledgeable hands.

The Autobot Leader cupped her cheekplates with one hand, and pressed his mouth to her throat, murmuring, "Why?", in her audio.

Elita switched to her internal com, :_:Because as much as I love your personal attention, Ironhide is watching you and from his expression, you're making him think of Chromia and that is not our intent::_

Immediately, Optimus withdrew. His optics blinked at her. _::Oh.::_

His femme smiled sadly at him, brushing her hand over his chestplating. _::Do something to break him out of his melancholy.::_

_::Of course.::_ Optimus glanced at Ironhide with a calculating expression. :_:I think you'll enjoy the idea I have for us.::_ He squeezed her shoulder, then rolled onto his knees and got to his feet. He stood at the end of the berth and beckoned to his Weapons Specialist with one commanding hand. "On your feet, solider."

Ironhide cocked an optic ridge at him, not moving his huge black frame one inch, comfortable where he was. "Why?"

The way her sparkmate lowered his head and flexed his shoulders to broaden the width of his chest gave Elita some clue to what he was about to do. She wasn't even sure Ironhide would LET him do this.

Standing stock still, Optimus unsheathed one of his lengthy arm blades with a hiss of steel. "Because if you don't, I will begin slicing off your cannons and feeding them into the recycler."

Ironhide's optics widened, thinking, oh, this was going to be good. Optimus was going to try being the dominant one. With a grunt, the mech clambered to his feet and faced his tall shiny Commander. He growled, "Always knew you had a sadistic streak in there somewhere."

On the berth, Elita folded her long red and chrome legs underneath her and sat there expectantly, watching the mechs face off. This would be interesting.

Ironhide pouted when Optimus unsheathed his interface and allowed it to extend fully between his upper thighs. The black mech sighed. "You keep showing me that thing, youngling, but I don't know what you expect me to do with it." Privately, Ironhide knew most other mechs _would_ be totally intimidated by Prime's overt display. What Optimus had between his legs was on the larger side of 'big', and that was putting it politely.

Suggestively, Optimus flexed his thick leg cables and widened his stance. Then he put his hands palm down on his hips and waited with a brooding expression.

Ironhide's gaze went back and forth from Prime's crotch to his optics. "You've got to be kidding me."

Optimus Prime's optics narrowed. The end of his interface twitched and thickened a little.

Ironhide chuckled, "You really trust me not to _bite_ it off?"

"If you do, it won't be him you'll be answering to, Ironhide," Elita said sweetly, putting her hands in her lap and feeling her groin begin to self-lubricate itself. "Purge your processor of any action like that or I'll remove YOUR interface."

Optimus nearly broke from his little charade at hearing her words. Trust his femme to threaten another mech over harming his interface. He just managed to maintain his tough and intimidatory persona. "Knees, Ironhide. The sooner the better." Prime's deep voice reverberated around the room.

Elita covered her mouth with her hands and smothered a squeak when Ironhide reluctantly got down onto the floor. He kneeled at face-level with Prime's semi-hard spike.

"You know what to do," Prime said softly, nudging Ironhide in the shoulder with his knee armor.

Ironhide hesitated for long enough to make Optimus worry – not wanting to make this too easy for him – then slowly lifted a hand and encased the male equipment dangling in front of his face in his palm, stroking lightly.

"You better make slagging sure this is what you want, Prime. I won't be stopping if you decide you don't like it after all," Ironhide grumbled, glancing up at his Commander's stern faceplates.

Putting one hand on the back of Ironhide's helmet armor, Optimus drew the mech's face towards his groin, rumbling, "Start sucking, mech, and make it good. I want you to make me hard enough to pierce Megatron's spark casing."

Ironhide couldn't make a comeback to that one. His mouthplates were already occupied with sliding down the length of Prime's hardening spike.

Looking on, Elita smirked. Watching her sparkmate's length crudely disappear into another mech's mouth was a huge turn on. She clicked open her interface cover and cupped her palm to herself, feeling the stickiness. If Optimus really could make himself go all the way, she was going to enjoy this.

"Take it all, Ironhide," Optimus demanded, keeping both of his hands on the black head armor in front of him in case Ironhide decided to back out.

Prime stood on spread legs, bracing his hips and allowing the black mech to swallow him. He could tell by the way that Ironhide took him almost to his root that he had done this before. Optimus really had to wonder _who_ with, since his Weapons Specialist wasn't known to be a submissive. Ratchet, possibly, he was a good suspect... any further thoughts he had on the matter were stalled by the simple sheer _pleasure_ Ironhide was giving him through his incredible skill. Slag it, the mech was good...

"Ugh..." Prime bowed his head down over his chest, working his hips in small thrusts. The newness of this coupled with Ironhide's eagerness could easily send him over the edge very quickly. For Elita's sake, he wanted to draw this out and give her a good show, as well as keep Ironhide occupied enough that he wouldn't think of Chromia.

Looking up at his Leader with bright optics over his busy mouth, Ironhide put more suction into his movements. With a free hand, he squeezed and rubbed at the base of the spike. He could easily tell that Optimus wasn't used to such treatment, he was far too responsive and wasn't pacing himself adequately enough. He mused that Elita must not be all that great at giving head, but hell, when a femme looked as good as she did, she didn't need the extra skill.

Take this, he thought darkly, running his glossa in circles over the head of Prime's spike, and poking into the exit slit in the head.

"PRIMUS!" Optimus gasped, jerking out of his rhythm. Cursing himself for making this too easy for Ironhide to take over, he purposely withdrew his length from Ironhide's pouting mouth with a backwards draw of his hips. His spike strained upwards over his lower abdomen, testament to the black mechs skill. "Lick it," he growled, "no more sucking until I say so."

Ironhide didn't look happy at being interrupted, but did as he was ordered to. Holding the spike with one hand to stop it from wobbling, he began licking Prime's interface from root to tip, adding in a little dance over the head with the tip of his glossa. Optimus placed his hands palm down on his hips and watched, optics dimmed.

"Need a hand?" Elita slithered off the berth and stood next to her towering mech.

"No, he has two of them, even with a mech my size, he shouldn't need more. Make him work for it," Optimus replied, smirking, looking down at Ironhide shaping his mouthplates over the tip of his spike and giving one naughty very small suck before quickly going back to licking. Every now and again, Ironhide locked his optics on Prime's and flashed them. A taunt to the Autobot Commanders domineering attitude.

Elita noticed that Ironhide had extended his own spike. It was standing up erect between his kneeling legs. _::Optimus?::_ She pointed down at Ironhide's exposed length. :_:You want me to shake him up a little?::_

Optimus smiled. _::Yes please, my love.::_

The Femme Commander gave Ironhide a filthy look before stalking around behind his back. She made him wait for an Earth minute, then crouched down beside him, reached a hand around his waist, grabbed his erection and yanked it – hard.

Ironhide jerked his head off Prime's spike with an oath. By force of will, he stopped his hands from grabbing at Prime's sparkmate.

"Ironhide!" Optimus snapped, "Did I tell you to stop, solider? Do I look like I am satisfied yet?"

Shifting on his knees with some nervousness, Ironhide gave Elita nasty look, then lowered his mouth back down to Prime's waiting hardness.

"Much better..." Optimus purred, caressing Ironhide's cheek with the back of his hand, and tracing a finger along his flexing open jaw. He'd heard rumors that Megatron forced his more difficult-to-control and arrogant soldiers to suck him off, and he could see the power in it. A small part of him was enjoying this far too much.

A snort of amusement came from Elita. She was using one hand to pump Ironhide hard. She pressed her lips to his audio, whispering, "I've had plenty of practise at pulling mechs off, 'Hide." Her glossa poked out to run over his upper cheek. "I'm going to make you come for me."

Picking up on her tactics, Optimus glared at the mech by his feet, "Do not overload for her, Ironhide, no matter what she does to you. Understand me?"

A groan of bemusement rumbled from Ironhide's occupied throat. Two bots at once was making it difficult for him to concentrate.

Elita laughed, her rose colored armor shimmering, "I don't care what he says, when I want a mech to come, he _comes_."

"Don't do it," Optimus warned again. "If you even dribble for her from that under-sized spike of yours, I will punish you." To try and keep Ironhide's focus on him, he placed his hands on his head and began thrusting his stiff spike with a little bit more force than he thought Ironhide could handle. It did the trick. The glazed expression on his face receded, forced back by the urge of Optimus' motions in his mouth.

Elita lifted her optics up to her mate's face, _::I'm going to make him come before you do::_

_::Don't! I have plans for him yet!:: _Prime sent back, keeping up the steady deep pace of his hips. He was flexing his knees to get more depth into Ironhide's throat.

_::Don't enjoy yourself too much::_ Elita said reproachfully, taking out her disapproval on Ironhide by giving his spike a few hard yanks. The black mech groaned.

Optimus couldn't take much more. He was going to lose everything – his transfluid in Ironhide's throat, and Elita's admiration – if he didn't move things along quickly and finish his plan. He was on the verge himself, and Elita's end of the sparklink was glowing red hot with her approaching need to mount a mech and ride him to her overload. With a growl, he released Ironhide's head from his hands and stepped back. Ironhide looked up at him, his mouth still open in a sucking motion. Motioning Elita to back off, Optimus pulled Ironhide to his feet, and roughly pushed him down onto the recharge berth on his hands and knees.

"Elita?" Optimus kept one hand on Ironhide's back so he wouldn't move, and held his other hand out to his femme.

Her expression curious, Elita accepted his hand and was pulled onto her feet and up against Prime's hard hot body. With little effort, he lifted her up with a strong hand under her aft and pressed a kiss to her mouthplates, getting her to groan wantonly, then he set her down and slid a hand down her abdomen and into her slick interface. She squeaked at the sensation of two fingers delving thickly between her interface lips.

Optimus withdrew from her and lifted two lubricant covered fingers up for his inspection. With a satisfied grin, he gently pushed Elita away and rapped a hard fist on Ironhide's back. "Open your aft port."

Ironhide's optics glared at Prime over his shoulder, "You are NOT going in there!"

"Open it," Optimus said again firmly, rubbing his hand repeatedly over Ironhide's aft.

"No!"

Prime sighed, opening a link to Ironhide's internal com. _::Do I have permission to use your aft?::_

The bulky black mech hesitated, then gave his assent, :_:Only if you work for it, and you better not reveal this to anyone or I'll send you back to the Well of Sparks in itty bitty pieces::_

Optimus ran his hand quickly up Ironhide's back and swiftly jammed his fingers into the back of his neck. A rough but not painful, manoeuvre. A promise that he could exert fatal force if necessary. Not that he ever would, but still, this was a good display.

"Yield. Open yourself to me," he demanded. To heighten the situation further, he tipped his head at Elita, "Keep me hard until he gives in. I don't want his previous actions at my feet to go to waste."

Her faceplates displaying her open lust, Elita moved in next to her beloved's hips and put her hand on his erect spike, purring, "As you wish... lover." Her hands pulled, stroked and fondled his nakedness. She didn't actually think there was any chance that Prime's erection would start to sink, but touching him was always her greatest joy.

"Ironhide..." Optimus practically snarled, effortlessly tightening his hand in Ironhide's neckplates so the mech arched his back and squirmed uncomfortably. "Open – your – PORT."

_::Don't hurt him::_ Elita sent him.

_::I won't, but he will be a little sore tomorrow::_ Optimus replied.

_::In his aft or his neck?::_ Elita joked.

"Bigger mechs than you have tried, Prime! Don't think that you get special access!" Ironhide snapped back.

Optimus tried switching tactics. Ironhide was one of the toughest mechs he knew. Force and hard words weren't the only weapon he had to use on him, there were other ways to coerce a bot.

"I know you want to overload," Prime said smoothly, and relaxed his neck hold on Ironhide. He placed his other hand under his belly and over his thick spike, "but I won't let you unless you let me use your aft. You want to come, don't you Ironhide? I can feel that you do." His fingers squeezed and manipulated the other mechs erection. "You're so hard, so tense. It won't take much.... but I won't allow you to. Imagine staying on the brink of release but never getting there."

Ironhide groaned and flexed his hips, pushing his eager spike into his friends hand. "Ugh... fragger..."

"All you have to do is open your port to me," Prime continued. He leant his wide chest down over Ironhide's tense back, rubbing their metal together. Red and blue flames over deep black. "Let me give you a release." His hand began to jerk the spike in his hold. "Please?"

"...Fine."

Elita lifted a comical optic ridge at the click of Ironhide's rear port opening. _::I'll enjoy this.::_

Optimus smiled and positioned himself at Ironhide's upturned aft. _::Please do:: _He slicked up the open port with his Elita-lubricant covered fingers, then straightened up. "I am so glad you're taking it like a mech, Ironhide," Optimus said, beginning to ease himself inside his crouching solider. He had to move in an inch, then back out, go for another inch and a half, then forwards again, but he was getting there.

The Femme Commander watched with wrapt optics. It was such a turn-on seeing one big alpha mech entering another forced-submissive mech with a huge erection. The sight of Ironhide's quivering hard spike sticking out from his hips was even better. Her hand went to her open port, fingering her slick lips.

"Ugh..." Ironhide flexed his back and rolled his shoulders, getting comfortable.

Optimus made a few soothing noises, seating himself deeply within the other mech and shifting around inside to get his bearings. When he finally got all the way in so his groin was flush to Ironhide's raised aft, he breathed a sigh through his vents. This was much tighter than he was used to. His optics flickered to the side to view Elita touching herself. Primus. He would be lucky if he lasted more than five Earth minutes with this.

"MOVE!" Ironhide demanded.

In answer, Optimus set himself up by pulling back – then began a firm and deep rhythm of in-and-out. Ironhide's hard spike bounced with each shove into his aft by the Autobot Commander. It was true that Ironhide rarely let another mech do this to him, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy it. He appreciated a good aft reaming as much as anyone, he just didn't want his hardcore reputation aft-reamed as well.

Elita One reached out to fondle Ironhide's spike -

"NO!" Optimus panted, "Don't touch him. He gets no help." He groaned and thrust relentlessly. Ironhide's whole body was being shifted and pummelled by the bigger mech in his rear. "Don't come yet, Ironhide."

"Too late..."

"DON'T COME!"

"_TOO LATE!" _

With no one touching his interface, Ironhide exploded in harsh spurts all over the berth. His spike jerked and released fluid like it had a life of its own. He rotated his hips under Optimus, striving to drag out his overload to its fullest. One of his hands left the berth to blindly reach back and touch himself but Prime pushed into him so hard he was forced to stop.

Looking down over Ironhide's shoulder, Optimus intently watched the fluid being rapidly spilled from his friend's excited spike, and promptly overloaded within Ironhide's port.

"Primus..." Optimus panted, holding Ironhide's hips and grinding himself into his port. His hips shoved and pulled. His back strained. His faceplates wore a perplexed expression of pleasure and shock.

Elita watched with huge optics. She couldn't believe she was watching Optimus climax inside Ironhide's aft. Her mate's armor flexed and creaked from the strain of his protoform concentrating all its energy on releasing fluid in an overload. It was a wonder that neither of the mechs went into emergency shutdown when they finally descended from their highs.

Optimus removed himself from Ironhide and sank down onto the berth with splayed out limbs and a glistening wet half-hard spike. Ironhide collapsed in an awkward crouch, not daring or not wanting, to move any further. Elita One surveyed the pair of them. She put her hands on her hips and pouted. They may have enjoyed themselves but she had been left with a raging need to overload and neither mech had an erect spike for her to use.

...perhaps Ratchet had a Cybertronian equivalent to the humans Viagra she could administer?


	6. Chapter 6

**Hearts Desire**

Authors Note: Man, this chapter is loooong. Over five thousand words! Sheesh! Warnings for this one. Lots of glorious nakedness, sticky, fingers in intimate places, sex toys being played with – just general all-out SMUT. Not into this? Don't read it, save yourself! For those who are beyond saving (ME!) read on...

**Chapter 6**

_**Optimus Prime and Elita One's private quarters...**_

Ironhide slowly came back online. He grunted, running one hand down his facial plates. The rear port in his aft was tingling and aching with the after effects of Optimus Primes dominant thrusting. The fragger. Ironhide's repair nannites were busy repairing the one or two micro tears left behind by Optimus' penetration (he really wanted to have a chat with Elita about how her port usually felt 'post-Optimus' after a heavy fragging; he'd never seen her walk oddly, at least, was she that good at hiding it?). It wasn't bad, he was only grumbling to have something to grumble about, and Optimus would be horrified if he told him, his little act had been just that – an act. Part of the problem was that Prime was by no means small. He didn't brag, he didn't display himself to anyone but Elita (and whatever lucky bot was invited upon his berth), but Optimus was one very large mech with an even larger spike. Many Autobots – be they femmes or mechs – gossiped or joked about how 'big' their Commander was down below, but not many of them had firsthand experience of how oversized it was. Ironhide had always known, and now his rear port knew it as well. Intimately. He'd never forget that if Prime ever got really fragged off with him, he may just decide to assert his rights. Rights that involved an order like, 'bend over and brace yourself'! Ouch. It was time for a covert missile system to be installed down there!

The black mech was lying on his back. He knew he'd gone offline sprawled out on his aching aft with his limbs splayed out, but somehow, his left arm and hand had been dumped up onto his abdomen. One lazy glance to his left told him why. Prime had a big recharge berth, but it obviously wasn't big enough if he was going to be fragging Elita with another mech recharging on it.

Optimus had positioned himself lying upon his side and had taken his femme sparkmate into his arms and against his split red and blue chest. The big mech had lifted Elita's right leg up onto his hip, hitching her knee over the edge of his sharp leg armor so she was spread wide for him, and thrust himself boldly between her thighs. Ironhide could see the bulge of his thick spike sliding in smooth thrusts between Elita's held apart legs and into the puffy lips of her lubricated and sweltering port. Prime was holding her tightly to his body and murmuring softly down to her while he mated with her. With the femme in a state of utter bliss and nirvana, it was obvious that Optimus certainly knew what he was doing when it came to the pleasuring of his female. Another few rhythmic undulations of the Commanders long body finishing with Optimus holding himself completely inside of her and Elita was jerking abruptly with her long withheld climax. Her hands flailed against him with every shudder of her chassis. Grabbing at his chest, losing their grip when she grimaced and jerked, then taking hold of him again.

From the way Elita was barely emitting any vocal noise during her climax, Ironhide surmised that the femme was used to keeping herself quiet. She must have trained herself to be soundless after being with Optimus for so long. Most of the interfaces the Mech Commander wanted to sneak in would've been within audio range of his gathered warriors; if not optic range; and keeping as silent as possible would've been his mission objective. Silent frag, silent femme.

Ironhide scratched his head at how Prime was able to get his 'Little Prime' up and erect at all after what they'd both just been through. Special Prime qualities, his aft. The mech had to have some kind of turbo boost stiffeners in there! Ratchet would know. Maybe a few barrels of high grade dumped down the medic's throat would get him installed with one too. Now _that_ would be something that Chromia would squeal hard about. Less downtime between frags. Excellent idea.

He watched openly as Optimus stayed on his side and overloaded transfluid into his femme with a few grunts and jerks of his hips. Prime's spike lost its mass very quickly once it had finished ejaculating. The Commander shifted his hips down to remove himself, then grasped his spike with his fingers to remove himself fully from the grasp of Elita's port. Those strong fingers that so easily manipulated a rifle to kill then massaged his limp spike. Elita moaned and restlessly squeezed her thighs together on reflex when Optimus did the same to her port, rubbing his fingers over her slippery entrance and cooing at her.

Optimus' flickering optics dimmed to a contented light blue as he met Ironhide's gaze over his quietening femme, her head held against his chest armor while her intakes vented vigorously. "Ironhide."

The other mech made a non-descriptive grunt. He noticed (proudly, since he'd been trying to coach his friend into exposing himself more often and not be so prudish) that Prime had left his spike uncovered and unretracted. It hung limp but naked outside of its protective sheath, covered from root to tip in a thin film of Elita's port lubricant. It swung sluggishly when the Commander moved. Ironhide's own spike was still un-retracted and was hanging down a short way between his heavy black thighs.

Prime shook off some of his post-overload haze and smiled at him while he rubbed one hand behind Elita's neck when she curled up and buried herself in the width of his big chest, "How's your rear end?"

"How do you think?" Ironhide responded sourly, openly reaching under himself to rub at his aft plating.

Prime quirked a thick optic ridge, "...Oh."

"Humph."

Optimus tenderly arranged his slack-framed and semi-online femme onto her back, staring down at her with an expression of intense adoration and love on his relaxed faceplates.

"Have you ever been fragged in your alt mode?"

Optimus Prime's head snapped up to stare over at Ironhide with absolute dumbfoundedness, his famous sparkling-blue optics flared wide. "Excuse me?!"

"You know," Ironhide lifted a hand and made a gliding and pulling motion, "it's not uncommon, consenting bots do it. Just shift a few exterior panels so Elita can slip her hand in," he shrugged, "Why not?"

Optimus had an expression on his faceplates that made him look like someone had just told him that Megatron wanted to interface with him. "That... thats..."

"Crude? Kinky? Well yeah, it is, that's why bots do it." Ironhide gave his friend a searching look, "Don't tell me you've never heard of it."

"I hear a lot of things Ironhide, not all of them reliable. What advantage is there to overloading in ones alt mode?"

Ironhide smirked, "Not much. Different sensations mainly, and you never know when such a talent may come in handy." The black mech coughed lightly, lifting his noseplates into the air, "Trapped in ones truck mode in the back of a C-17, maybe?"

Optimus rubbed at his cheekplate, wisely seeing where his friend was going with this. Ironhide wanted to keep their little berth partnership going. "There are many things left for us to attempt together if you want 'unusual'."

"Heh," Ironhide placed his hand on Elita's aft and cupped her with his palm. The femme grunted and clenched her hands on Prime's metal but didn't object. Making a soothing noise, he rubbed at the Femme Commanders tiny aft. "You know, we could try both being in Elita's valve together. She's an experienced femme, she could handle it."

The look of 'holy Primus' that crossed over Prime's faceplates was comical. "Both?" He glanced down between Elita's slack legs, "at the same time?"

Ironhide barked a laugh, "For a leader, you can be very naive, you know that? Of course at the same time! That's the point!"

"...go slag yourself, 'Hide, you're not trying that with me..." Elita's tired voice was muffled where her face was pressed snugly against her mates chest. Optimus Primes overlapping faceplates formed a grin, and he stroked her back soothingly with one large hand.

Ironhide grizzled, "Do you mean to say you've never tried it, Femme Commander?"

Elita growled, waves of irritation rolling off her red armor. She let go of her mate, subspaced her black rifle into her hand with a bright flash, and pointed the sharp end of it into the small hollow above Ironhide's slack interface. Optimus stared in shock then began rumbling with laughter.

Getting over the surprise, Ironhide smirked at her, "Femme, has anyone ever explained to you that if you blow that off you'll have to go find another mech who still has his interface attached the next time you get frisky?"

The femme huffed at him and prodded his spike with her rifle, "Oh yes," she gestured grandly at Optimus, "he did. I didn't pay much attention when he said it either, Cybertronian mechs outnumber Cybertronian femmes a thousand to one. There will always be a mech who still has a spike attached."

"Chromia would let Optimus try it with me and her..." Ironhide said vaguely, "thinking back, I'm sure that was one of her little role play fantasies." He knew, KNEW, that would rile Elita up. What Chromia could do, Elita knew she wanted to do also. Do it _better_. Her attitude under went a lightning change of CPU.

Elita's expression changed when she heard that. Her rifle disappeared in a bright flash and she rolled back over to face her sparkmate. Her small hands came up to rest on Prime's cheekplates, "Optimus, perhaps I could-"

"No, Elita, I couldn't," Prime cut her off, lowering his head to nuzzle her noseplates as the spinners of the side of his head whirring agitatedly, "We'd hurt you. Some fantasises are just that – a fantasy."

A little growl came from the lying down femme. She sat up, poking a slender finger into Prime's stiff abdominal plates. "I want to try it. My body, my decision."

"Yes, but remember how tight you felt when I was in your front port and Ironhide was in your aft? Remember? Tight. Too tight. Think of us doing that in your port together..." Optimus' optics darkened, "I do not think it is a good idea. You would be in pain and we could damage you."

Elita turned on her aft to face Ironhide. "Hide, do you still have those inanimate interface toys?"

"Eh? Yeah. In my subspace pocket."

The Femme Commander lifted her head up authoritatively, "Bring them out, please."

Prime's optics widened, "...Interface toys...?" He blinked. Several times. "Uh... Ironhide, why do you have those and how on Cybertron did you even know about them, 'Lita?"

While Ironhide ignored his question and sat up straight and proceeded to subspace flash several phallic-looking objects onto the expanse of berth in front of him, Elita pouted happily at her bewildered massive sparkmate.

"Chromia told me. She and 'Hide use them sometimes," she said knowingly, winking at her mech.

Optimus stared at the assorted intimate toys carefully arranged in front of him and Elita. There were five phallic rods lying there, all different colors and textures, in sizes ranging from average to 'Holy Primus, that's insane!'.

"Oh, one more, almost forgot," Ironhide rumbled deeply, bringing out his last toy. A wide hollow silver tube closed at one end with what looked like tiny fluid filled cushions inside appeared next to the phallic rods. "How could I forget that one?" He picked it up and held it in his palm, stroking it affectionately.

The Autobot Leader peered cautiously at what was in Ironhide's hand. "The rods I can understand – fake spikes and interface rods, correct? But," he pointed at the object in the hand of his Weapons Specialist, "what is that for?"

"The femmes get their toys, we mechs get ours. Watch this," Ironhide turned the tube upside down – and slid three of his fingers into the hollow space within it, pumping them in front of Prime's widening optics. "Get it? It vibrates too." The tube began to make a humming noise and shook itself in his hand.

Optimus Prime was speechless. His jaw worked like a guppy fish. "That... that... that's_ a fake femme port?_!"

Ironhide winked at a hysterically giggling Elita One, "Bit slow on the uptake, ain't he? Yes Prime, it is a fake port, you slide your erect spike into the open end until your rod is all the way inside it and thrust into it repeatedly until you overload within it. Most mechs have one for their personal playtime – or so I've been led to believe. Have you really not seen one before?"

Prime was a big red and blue mass of indignant disbelief. "NO!"

"Ah. Right." Ironhide rolled his optics within their casings, his finger scratching at his black head armor. "Innocent fragger you've got here, 'Lita." He looked back at Optimus and held out his toy, "Here, take it. Have a look."

Like a curious sparkling, Optimus accepted the outlandish toy into his large palm, thinking, _I hope he's cleaned it_! He examined it, squeezing the outside of it, thinking what it would be like to use it, and if he really wanted to. He glanced down at his crotch to compare the size of his spike with the interior dimensions of the tube. He didn't think he'd fit himself inside of it...

Sitting up on her aft, Elita watched him closely. She knew this was a real education for her sparkmate, he was very closed off to many things that involved anything more than putting his spike into her port or aft. Even her aft he wasn't that keen on. Oh, Optimus loved interfacing and he had a very demanding interface drive, it was just that he was stuck on doing things the traditional way. His spike in her port and she had to overload before he did. Compared to the mechs in his extensive army, Optimus was like a shy baby youngling when it came to kinky interfacing. She laughed when he cautiously put his index finger inside of it – and yanked it out when the toy responded to him by vibrating noisily.

"It doesn't hurt, you big sparkling," Ironhide drawled, sitting up fully and crossing his legs in front of him, his armor making deep metal-on-metal noises, "if you can get yourself up again you should try it out. It's great. You can also adjust the tightness of it, but be careful with that, whoever designed it must've been a relative of Wheeljack because it can go tight enough to make you cry in pain." He winked an optic roughly, "If you're into pain and bondage I suppose that would be a plus."

Prime gave him a disbelieving look, holding the toy away from himself like it was contagious. "I don't think I would ever use something like this."

Elita groaned loudly, rolling onto her side to collide against his body armor, "Don't be so dismissive, grumpy bot. Try it!"

"I just finished fragging you senseless, femme, so even if I wanted to try it, I am all out of erect spikes," Optimus said pointedly, dragging up his armor-clad thigh from where he was lying along his side. He patted his limp spike and shrugged at her – _see?_

"Whatever," Elita smacked the back of her hand to his abdomen with a thud, "in any case, we're here to use the interface rods on me to see how I'll handle two spikes at once." She waggled her fingers at the mech toy, "Forget about that thing for the moment. That's dessert."

Ironhide let his optics wander from perusing the fake spikes to staring at Elita's slick crotch. If he got to watch her openly tucking a thick rod into herself with her thighs spread open, he might be able to show Optimus how good the mech toy was... because he'd be going for it _hard _if the femme put on a good show.

Optimus grunted, carefully placing the mech toy onto a small shelf above his head and eyeing it off like it was a Decepticons weapon. Silly thing. What kind of mech needed something like that?

Ironhide snorted, "You look like you're afraid it'll attack you."

"Won't it?" Prime said loftily, turning his head and quirking an optic ridge.

Ironhide shook his head at him. How such a handsome and femme-attracting mech could be so closed-off about his own sexuality was a mystery to him.

Ignoring the mechs, Elita hummed to herself and selected two of the fake spikes to try out within her port. She picked up the second smallest one and a medium sized one. Her aim was to slide one in and then try to get another one in alongside it. If she could handle that, she'd move onto the biggest spikes – simulating what it would be like to have Optimus and Ironhide in her at the same time. Maybe her port needing practise stretching first before she gave the males the thumbs up.

Ironhide saw what she was doing. His heavy black armor creaked as he leaned towards her, "You want help with that?"

"Hang on," Elita pushed at her mates long thick thigh that was in her way, "give me some room here, move over." Obligingly – and curious, and getting aroused by the erotic toys being flashed about – Prime moved his big body over. Elita petted his knee,"Thanks. Um... yeah. I would like a hand." She held up the middle-sized spike, "One of you put this inside of me? I think now would be the best time to try this. Optimus has already opened me up nicely from interfacing. We should do this while I'm warm and stretched."

Ironhide watched her openly put two of her own fingers inside herself experimentally, feeling around. Primus, it was going to be fun to try this.

Optimus bit back a groan at listening to his femme ask one of them to insert things inside of her. Oh yeah. He was going to get hard again. He wondered if he even had any transfluid left to come out. Could he overload if his transfluid tank didn't contain enough liquid? He tried to remember back to his over-active youngling days. He vaguely remembered getting a sore spike from over-interfacing with Elita when they first met one another, but nothing about being 'dry'. The curvy, bold, and dark red femme he'd been so attracted to had kept his interface in a constant vertical state for many an orn once they had begun their intimate activities.

"I think you should be doing that for her, Optimus," Ironhide gestured openly at him, "you've been in there enough times to reliably know how deep and wide she is, how much she can take. I've only been inside her a few times."

"Good idea!" Elita said, far too brightly for her mates tastes, eagerly handing over the spikes to him and leaning against the back wall of their recharge berth and opening her thighs with her hands, gazing at him expectantly.

"...now I know how Ratchet feels..." Optimus muttered wryly, looking down at where she was spread wide for him. He had considered being a medic once, but facing femmes intimate parts as part of an examination had deterred him. Facing _anyones_ intimate parts had deterred him! He was much too shy for that. His optics glowed lovingly at his bold mate. Her glossy red armor accentuated the lighter tone of her spread port opening. Like a target. He held up one of the spikes. Well, he did have a 'missile'.

Prime positioned himself lying down next to Elita's hips. "Lita, whenever you want to stop this, just say so. I'll do this as gently and slowly as I can." His glowing optics met hers, "If it makes you feel more comfortable you can rest your hand over the top of mine."

His femme nodded, a smirk on her mouthplates, "No need. You shouldn't need telling that I trust you implicitly." She pulled her thighs apart even further and gestured at him, "Go on, get started."

"You're sure about this?"

"YES!"

"Alright..."

Ironhide shifted closer to the pair, his optics glued on Optimus Prime's hand. He watched silently as Prime first positioned the tip of the medium spike in front of Elita's port, then swirled the tip of it through the sticky fluids to get it slicked up and ready for penetration. When he pushed it halfway inside, Elita shuttered her optics and moaned breathlessly.

"Expert..." Ironhide muttered at Optimus, "you're good at this."

Prime gave him a comical glare and shook his head. Moving slowly, he reversed the spike so it came out of her, then eased it back in, this time going all the way until only his fingers holding the base of the spike remained outside of her. Elita's femme port lips spread wide to accommodate the invasion. She shifted her hips and sighed, stretching her neck and flexing her head back.

"Elita?" Optimus clicked his optic shutters together, "Are you alright? Is this too thick or in too much?"

"I'm fine. It's not as thick as you are. I've got no problem handling this so far," Elita murmured, her optics shadowed and a pout on her mouthplates.

"You're not the only one," Ironhide chuckled, dropping his hand from his hip to his crotch at the erotic sight and running his fingers warmly over his stiffening spike.

Optimus kept his concentration on his job. It was certainly arousing to watch a spike – even a fake one – moving in and out of the port of his precious femme. The position she was in was rather explicit. Thighs spread open, her port completely exposed under the lights shining down from the ceiling, a phallus being thrust in and out of her, and another mech besides himself watching the whole thing. Even better that he and Ironhide had left their spikes out in the open and ready for action. Ironhide was touching himself, and his own spike was tingling and waking up. When Elita lifted her rounded hips up of the berth and began pumping them eagerly back at his hand – wanting more – he stilled the spike in her and grasped the smaller spike she had chosen to attempt this with.

Prime ran his hand in a massaging motion up and down her inner thigh, "Ready for the other one now?"

"Oh yeah..." She glanced up at him with a sultry pout, loving the look of him looming over her hips with the angles of his faceplates shadowed so distinctly that his cheekplates and square jaw stood out proudly, all topped by gorgeous azure blue optics. The sensual bulk of his body laid out beside her and the immense power it contained made her shiver happily. He was such a handsome mech. She knew beyond a doubt that no other mech in the universe was better looking than he was – and he was allll hers.

Prime nodded. The smaller spike fitted snugly into his hand. With one hand holding the base of the bigger one inside her, Prime brought the tip of the other spike up next to it. And paused. "Hmmm." He lowered his head down, checking out what space he had to work with between her parted interface lips. She was pretty stuffed full. "I think I need some help from Ratchet with this. This isn't going to work. There isn't enough room," he murmured. He let go of the bigger spike and gently probed her lips with his fingers, looking for a way to get in.

Ironhide snorted, chuckling. "Come on Prime, if you don't know how to get a spike into a femme by now, you'll be a disgrace to mechs everywhere."

Elita rolled her optics with a smile. "If you pull the bigger one back out so less of its bulk is inside, you may get an opening big enough to work with. You know, slide the tip of the smaller one in beside it."

"I was just about to say that," the black mech mused, nodding in agreement.

"I'm sure you were," Prime said dryly, looking up at his friend. Ironhide had his hand around his own stiff spike, giving it little pumps and squeezes. The practised way he handled himself made Optimus think that he did that fairly often. "Alright, lets see..." Doing exactly as his femme had advised him to do, Prime let the big spike come most of the way out so the narrow portion of it remained just at her entrance, and then manipulated the tip of the small spike up next to it.

Elita braced herself. She tensed and stayed still on the berth while her mate began pushing inside. "That's it. I can feel that." Her hips shifted, balancing themselves on the armor covering her hip joints. She looked up at him, meeting his curious gaze. "It's tight but not painful. Kind of like when you go inside me after not interfacing for a while."

"Ah." Prime's optics narrowed with concentration. "Hmm." He was so intent on what he was doing that he hadn't noticed his own spike begin to thicken and rise. Ironhide did. He glanced behind them at the interface toy that Prime had left up on the shelf. He was going to use that on the fabled Supreme Autobot Commander if it killed him. It would be great to get the huge fragger thrusting and moaning uncontrollably into it.

"Oh!" Elita's hand grabbed at her mate's forearm, "wait a moment." Optimus looked concerned and began to pull both of the spikes out but she stopped him. "No, keep'em there, it's difficult but not painful. Just wait."

Ironhide swept his optics down Elita's body, admiring her strong feminine shape and the perfection of her paint job; glossy dark red accented with touches of chrome. The femme had arranged her armor (consciously or not) so it revealed peeks of her grey protoform underneath. The whole effect was quite stunning. Seeing such a beautiful female being intimately touched by another mech was making him twitch with desperation.

"I can't go any further. I'll hurt you," Prime said warily. He moved his gaze from the spikes in her port up to her pinched faceplates. His voice lowered to a rumble."We should stop now."

"No!" Elita was getting irritated. "It's fine!"

As much as he was enjoying the show, Ironhide shook his head and opened his internal comlink to ping his Leader. ::_I'm sorry I made the crack about Chromia wanting this, that's why she wants to keep going. I agree with you. Let's stop.::_

:_:She'll only stop if we can distract her with something else_:: Optimus responded. ::_What do you suggest_?::

Again, 'Hides attention went to the other toy. He grinned crookedly, ::_Want to give the fake port a workout?_:: He looked pointedly at his friend's erection. ::_Looks like you'd make a good candidate for it._::

Optimus bore an expression similar to that of a sparkling who'd just been caught playing with his spike in public. It made him cringe to think of using that thing. ::_Since you own it, I believe you have exclusive rights to it. You use it.::_

"What are you two talking about?" Elita demanded loudly.

"Interfacing, what else?" Ironhide drawled, running his fingers along his jutting male length. "I was trying to convince Prime to let me use his aft."

"Liar!" Optimus protested.

"Maybe... but don't you want to try it?"

"Really?" Elita perked up. Now suitably distracted, she stared appraisingly at her hovering mate, "Would you let him do that? You've been in his aft, you should return the favour."

"I don't think any bot using another bots aft is called a 'favour'," Optimus grumbled, "Undignified torture is a better phrase."

Ironhide snorted, "Oh, is that what you thought when you were using me? How nice." He leaned over Elita's body and flicked his forefinger against Prime's stiff spike, making it tremble and bounce.

"Ironhide!" Optimus shoved his hand away and cupped his hand protectively over his spike, his optics flashing a violet blue.

"Just stop bickering and someone give me an overload!" Elita growled, frustrated at the males playing around while she was in desperate need of another climax, the result of her mate pumping a fake spike in and out of her port. This time she'd need a lot of help, several overloads in a matter of a few Earth hours had worn her down. She was still full of desire, her body was just going to be a lot slower to respond.

"Okay, okay," Optimus soothed, chuckling. He slid the spikes out of her crotch and used the tips of his fingers to rub her softly. She vented sharply through her intakes and lifted her hips up into his welcome touch.

Watching the two begin to play, Ironhide grinned. Optimus was an immensely huge mech. The size advantage he had over Elita was striking. He'd known them for eons but sitting back and looking at them together always made him smile. The humans would compare them to a cat and an elephant. Silly.

"Ironhide."

The mech brought himself back to the present. "Yeah?"

Optimus had clambered off his berth, leaving Elita stretched out on top of it by herself. He was standing at the end of the berth and stretching his arms out, limbering up his back. He appeared comical with his stiff spike standing out from his groin. "I think it's time we gave this femme the fragging of her life."

"Oh?" Ironhide said mildly, clasping his palm around his own excited spike. "Yeah. I agree."

From where she was lying on her back with her legs spread wide open, Elita held her arms out warmly to them, enjoying the view she had of two gorgeous males with huge erections just waiting to make her scream and writhe under them with pleasure. "Come and get it..." she purred, waggling her fingers.

A series of hard loud thumps on the hangar door made them all freeze.

"Are you aftheads coming out of there, or what? Galloway is here!"

Ratchet.

Elita slapped her hands over her faceplates and started to giggle. Her mate growled. He made a fist of one hand and flexed his cables. Not impressed.

Ironhide rumbled menacingly, "Primus not now...", then pointed down at his crotch, "how the slag am I supposed to get rid of this?!"

Optimus shook his head, grimacing. Ratchet was going to find himself transferred to Mars – with Galloway as his only company...


End file.
